Dangerous Ch. 02

My name is Angel Hightower and I was the head personnel evaluator for a well-known pharmaceutical company. Although for legal reasons I cannot reveal the name of the company, I no longer wish to hide my own identity. The need for secrecy has passed. Basically I was done in by my own actions. As much as I'd like to I have no one else to blame for the events that follow in this account. I became a hypocrite, for I had always criticized other women for their behavior when it came to cheating in their relationships, yet I could not stop myself from doing the same damn thing. I let it come between me and my husband. I let it ruin my life.

Six weeks. Six stinking weeks. That's how long it took for me to break my vow and fall back into the clutches of adultery. I thought I was strong enough to fight the temptation his eyes presented to me. I thought that my willpower was strong enough to withstand that perfect smile and sexy smirk. I was so wrong. My dreams betrayed me nightly as I imagined his powerful thrusts invading my sex, his chiseled, sweat-soaked body pressed against mine in a carnal embrace, his mesmerizing golden eyes claiming my very soul. I tried to be a dutiful wife, rededicate myself to my marriage, but the itch for my secret lover kept me feeling frustrated and snappish. He had broken me; from the moment I first gave in to my curiosity I was lost. Doomed to fail, I never had a chance.

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My week of debauchery had done major damage to my reputation around the office. My work did not suffer so my bosses didn't care; I was still bringing in talented staff and brilliant scientists with personalities that meshed well. Despite that I would still from time to time hear the whispers. Some of the people involved were just the jealous bitches trying to knock me off my pedestal for my previous holier-than-thou attitude toward office dalliances. Others involved the guys who thought that it was their turn to get some now that the Ice Queen had thawed. The rumors were irritating but I understood, took it as a penance for my wanton behavior. What brought me up short were the people questioning my competence. That I got to my present position not by keeping my nose to the grindstone but rather greasing up the poles of my superiors. When I started hearing that I had to bite my tongue to keep from losing all sense of reason. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the source of that particular set of rumors. Evaline Matthews, little Miss Second-Place. I admit that she was good at her job, but her lack of people skills had always held her back. She was frequently placed on assignments where she could work alone. Though fairly attractive, her scalding wit and belittling attitude toward any project that she herself did not generate made people loathe working with her. When I was promoted department head instead of her she just knew that I had to be screwing the senior staff. In her eyes no one was more deserving of promotion and advancement. Most people paid her no attention, seeing the jealousy for what it was. My recent fall from grace had started to shift people's opinions to her way of thinking though. After all, I was no longer untouchable, pure, a bastion of virtue or whatever. It wouldn't be beneath me.

I'm no stranger to office gossip, I knew in my heart I should have let it die down instead of adding fuel to the furnace. I should have let my work, my track record speak for itself. The people I put into place were key to company success, instrumental in the latest breakthroughs in drug-tech. I knew my own worth; no amount of chatty office gossip should have made a difference in how I conducted myself or handled my business. But it did. It hurt so badly. Hell it all hurt, all the rumors, the whispers. Looking back, I guess I was grasping at straws, trying to find something or someone to fight against instead of smoke and shadows. My target was Evaline. The first step in my downfall was the torrid if short lived love affair with Desmond. The next step was the confrontation with Eva. About 2 weeks after he was transferred to the IT department I had Eva come to my office. By that time the rumor mill was cranking at an all-time high, grinding my reputation to dust. My reasoning was admittedly flawed but at the time I figured that a little personnel readjustment would serve to change the climate. I was sitting at my desk, trying and failing to focus on the spreadsheet I was preparing when my secretary informed me of her arrival. "Send her in, James," I said into the intercom, my calm voice a contrast with the anger boiling just underneath the surface.

Eva walked through the door as if she deserved to be sitting where I was. Her Mediterranean features, the olive skin, lush and luxurious raven's wing hair and warm brown eyes were wasted by her haughty scowl. She was beautiful, imposing, and confident. She also radiated bitch with every glance. I waited patiently as she glided to the open seat in front of my desk, sat and looked at me expectantly while crossing her legs.

"Is there something I can help you with Ms. Hightower?" she said with a thinly-veiled sneer. "I am finishing the report on the recruiting trip to Tulane and I'd really like to put on the finishing touches before the staff meeting tomorrow morning."

"Oh that won't be necessary, Ms. Matthews," I replied, keeping my voice level and professional. "Wayne can touch that up. Look, there is no easy way to put this so I'm just going to come right out and say it. I have spoken to management recommending your transfer out of Personnel and into Accounting effective immediately and that request has been approved. I will need you to clear out your desk and report to Mr. Bossley on the..."

"I know very well where accounting is," she interrupted with outrage. "On what grounds are you moving me? My work is excellent!"

"Frankly, it's your attitude. Your co-workers feel that you are not a team player and your belittling commentary and outright rudeness are creating a hostile work environment. You have excellent work ethic and the company would hate to lose you. We just felt that a change of scenery would do us both a world of good."

Her eyes narrowed and an ugly smile crossed her features. "'We felt' this and 'we felt' that huh? My 'attitude'? I know exactly what this is. You're trying to get rid of me, huh? Little Angel, fallen from grace, turned slut where everyone can see and can't take it when people talk huh? You already stole my promotion, now you wanna fuck up my career track because you can't take the heat? Tell me, who else did you have to fuck to get me out of the way? You know what? I don't give a shit. Know that I won't stand for it though. I'm going to file a grievance and get you axed, you bitch! You are going to pay dearly for...

"Shut the fuck up!" I interrupted her, punctuating my speech by slamming my fist on my desk. Matching her fire with my own, I began to speak into the silence. "You are an ungrateful, sniveling, despicable cunt and I don't give a fuck how angry you are, you aren't about to speak to me that way. Do you know what I could do to you? With the amount of red marks in your personnel file I could have you pushing letters in the mailroom for the next 10 years. Hell, I could have kicked you to the curb so hard you bounced! File a fucking grievance. Go right ahead! My audit is in order. All of my I's are dotted; all my T's are crossed. 'My work is excellent'. Give me a break! News flash, bitch! Nobody wants to WORK WITH YOU! Even with all that, I tried to keep it professional, let you down easy, even set you up with a soft landing. YOU decided to make this shit personal, not me! I sincerely promise you do NOT want to play that game with me."

By the time I finished my little diatribe her face was red, her body was shaking in anger and her hands were clawed, gripping the arms of my office chair. The haughty mask slipped and what I saw was pure undiluted anger. She was leaning forward like she wanted to slap me and was only holding herself back by force of will. "Do it, bitch," I said with quiet menace and a smile that never touched my eyes. "Do it. Give me a reason to smash your pretty little face in before I have security escort your sorry ass out the building. Please, PLEASE give me a reason to ensure that no one ever hires you again."

We sat staring daggers at one another across my desk, a moment in time stretched for eternity. There was no give in me, only slightly less than that in her. Finally, Eva looked away. "You've made your feelings perfectly clear, Ms. Hightower," she said between gritted teeth. "I guess I'll be heading off to accounting. If there's nothing else...," she rose from her seat and walked stiff-backed out of my office. She paused at the door before walking away. In a sort of stage whisper she said, "This ain't over bitch. Not by a long shot."

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My little confrontation a.k.a shouting match with Eva had the opposite effect from what I intended; apparently we were loud enough to be heard throughout the department. As a result, the rumor mill exploded and it all got back to me. And although no one ever said anything to my face, people found a way to make me all too aware of what was being said about me. Add control freak to slut, adulterer, career opportunist, I mean any negative comment that could be made about a woman in the workplace fit me to a T in everyone's eyes. And even though I tried not to show just how much the scrutiny affected me outwardly, I was a cauldron of emotions inside. Of course I was angry and frustrated about the vile things being said about me, the sly looks and rooms going dead silent at my approach. I also felt guilty. Maybe I'd come down a little hard on Eva. Maybe having Desmond drop me as soon as his transfer papers were signed had me feeling depressed. Maybe my actions made me unworthy of a great husband. I just couldn't shake my malaise.

In the month following my outburst I had not made love to Stephen at all; what time we did spend together was spent fighting over things that had never bothered us in 10 years of marriage. To make matters worse, I was still feeling like things were unfinished with Desmond. It's not as if we had spoken about ending our affair at all. My eyes were open and yet I still lusted over him, to my everlasting shame. It didn't help that he still worked in the building, only 7 floors down. We'd run into each other on occasion in the elevator on the way in or sometimes in the company cafeteria. He always had that knowing smile, one that turned my knees to jelly and had my mind racing. I never returned it, never gave him any indication that I wanted him to pin me to a wall, hike up my skirt and have his way with me. I wasn't making love to my husband but I still felt I had a promise to keep, to never let another have what was his. I hated the fact that when I fantasized about sex it was always Desmond who came to mind, not Stephen. I hated my body's reaction to him whenever he was in close proximity. I hated myself for ever straying down a path that I could not shake, I even began to hate my promise.

Everything was beginning to pile up. Turmoil at home, sexual frustration at work, the rumors and lies, lumped together they were hammering at my confidence and self-esteem. I became more and more short-tempered as the days wore on. Eva was not the only one I had words with, just the only one I'd moved. The pressure, Jesus the pressure! It was only a matter of time before my excellent work began to suffer. I was dropping the ball and my subordinates were doing the same. My people were turning in reports late, giving sloppy presentations, recommending shoddy personnel for hire, and I wasn't mentally there to shore them up, give them confidence, or even give them that kick in the pants I'd always been known for. I was failing my department and the company as a whole and I knew it. I was to blame for failing in my responsibility and for the first time in my life that knowledge wasn't enough for me to fix it. Just one more thing for me to feel guilty about, another thing to add to the pile of shit my life had become. I needed an escape, a way out. I found my solace by drowning my sorrows in alcohol.

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Six weeks. Six stinking weeks. In six weeks I had gone from confident business woman with a fine career and a husband who adored her to a wretch about to lose everything she'd worked so hard for. The merry-go-round of misery was moving at a breakneck pace and I had no idea how I'd ever get off. I wasn't in denial; I knew full well what I was doing to myself. I was on a path to my own destruction, building my own personal hell brick by brick. I was a coward, too afraid of what I'd already lost, too afraid to confront the problems facing me head on because I didn't want to lose anything else.

Drinking served two purposes for me, punishing me for my failures and helping me to avoid my problems. The fact that I knew it was such a bad decision, one I'd seen play out personally with my father, actually seemed to make my punishment worse and thus satisfying my need to assuage my guilt. Martyrdom by alcoholism, crazy right? I still had enough presence of mind not to drink at work or come in the next morning blasted and hung over. I never drank with the after work set, preferring to drown my sorrows alone. I saw even less of Stephen, staying out until two or three in the morning slamming fruity martinis at the bar before coming home and crashing in a drunken stupor. It was only a matter of time until I broke one of my own rules, before my so-called presence of mind slipped, I knew it even then. To numb the pain, I felt I'd hold out for as long as possible.

My day of reckoning was on me before I knew it. My immediate supervisor had come down hard on me that morning and I took it especially hard. One of the pillars in my life was being hammered down and I was feeling pathetic and low. I sat at the bar feeling more dejected than I could ever remember feeling when Desmond sauntered into my fortress of solitude wearing a smirk that could kill angels. Confident, strong, and in control, he had me bespelled from the moment we locked eyes from across the room. He crossed the intervening space in slow motion, stoking my desire ever higher with each step. If I wasn't so surprised I would have thought to ask how he knew where I'd be, but at the time questions seemed unimportant. I knew two things with certainty; that I wanted him with a passion that I could not hope to suppress no matter how hard I tried and that if I didn't resist him now my broken marriage would be effectively over. Those two thoughts did battle in my brain, fighting to the death for supremacy until he was right in front of me, kissing my hand and holding it possessively.

"I have reserved a booth," he spoke in that rich baritone that haunted my dreams. "Won't you come have dinner with me?"

No no no no no no NO! my mind screamed. My body, that traitorous bitch, had other ideas. I followed where he led me, protest throttled before ever reaching my lips. It wasn't far, just off the barroom, low-lit and as secluded as the space would allow. Not that I cared about my surroundings or being discreet or anything else at that point. I was too focused on the war going on in my mind.

It was actually romantic. He was the perfect gentleman; never speaking of our past relationship, always courteous and attentive, never cross or lewd. Nothing in his manner would suggest that he expected to score that night. To an outsider it would look as though two colleagues were having a bite to eat and maybe a cocktail after work. It made me feel nice, special. He had managed to ease my pain like alcohol had never done; I was grateful, but I knew from that predator look in his eyes that the evening was far from over. He had plans, ones that involved me heavily, and those thrice-be-damned eyes promised that I'd love every minute.

Meals finished, we sat at the table conversing on inconsequential over glasses of red wine. I wasn't quite sober, but I was not nearly as drunk as I would have been had he not shown up. Over the course of the meal we'd been slowly moving closer and closer to one another until we were nearly shoulder to shoulder. The space between us was paper thin. Then he made his move, leaning over and placing the lightest of kisses on the side of my neck. He said in a breathy whisper, "I truly enjoyed our date Angel. I must confess that I loathe for this evening to end. Won't you come with me tonight? I have a room at the Four Seasons where we could...converse...away from prying eyes."

The war was over. My marriage was over. My passion and desire for him had won out, and yet I still found some will to resist the inevitable. "I-I don't think that's a good idea Desmond. After all, I am a married woman. I mean I know we had a fling and all, but it was a mistake. We simply cannot do this again."

"I'm sorry," he apologized in words while his golden eyes held none. "Forgive me if I was too forward. It's just that I am having a hard time forgetting our 'mistake', the ways in which we pleasured each other." I of course felt the same, had dreamed of little else over the past 6 weeks. He continued. "The passion! The feel of your pure, smooth olive skin as my fingers roamed every inch of your perfect frame. Just thinking of the last time we were together leaves a lasting imprint on my mind. I hunger for you Angel. It may be wrong but I want you in the worst way. Please reconsider."

"I'm sorry Des but I cannot. I just..." my voice trailed off as I felt his powerful hand rest on my thigh just above the knee. My cheeks flushed but I rallied back. "I can't." I made no move to remove his hand even as his caresses became more intimate. "I can't afford to keep putting my marriage in jeopardy like this," I continued. "There is n-n-no future with us. I *sigh* understand. I enjoyed our time together greatly. You have, ahhh, no idea how much. But that time has passed, oh my god, I, Shit, can't keep do-do-doing this to my husband!" By the end of my admittedly broken speech I was breathing as though I'd ran a lap around the world. His fingers had found my clit and were applying steady pressure, only a thin piece of satin separating his questing digits from my sex. I was saying the words but my body made a mockery of them. Finally I grabbed his wrist under the table, but instead of pushing it away I held on as I ground my teeth, trying to keep quiet through the orgasm he had coaxed from me.

"Are you sure about that?" he smirked. "From the feel of things it seems as though your needs aren't being met at home. You are a very talented, passionate and sensual woman Angel. I have experienced it for myself. Is it so wrong for me to want to pleasure you?"

"Damn you, " I whispered through the aftershocks. My stare was intense as I started to manipulate his turgid member through his slacks. "You know it's wrong for me to want you. I want you to fuck me until my teeth rattle, fuck me like you did in the break room when I wrapped my legs around you, when I used my heels to help you reach the deepest part of my pussy." My stroking was getting faster and rougher, punctuating my speech as I relayed my desire. "I want you to take me from behind like you did on my office that first night. I want it so damn bad just the thought of it leaves me quivering with lust. What I don't want is to be a slut who cheats on her husband just because some asshole with mesmerizing eyes and a great smile gives her the eye. Please Desmond, you gotta stop this. Leave me be!"

So lost in the moment, I hadn't noticed that I had a death grip on his cock until he winced and grabbed my wrist under the table. Suddenly aware of my surroundings, I tried to snatch my hand away, thankful that the low light hid the flush in my cheeks yet oddly disappointed that I had not made him cum. He never let my hand get completely away, instead holding it while staring deeply into my eyes. "Angel, Angel Angel," he spoke in a voice as soft as a caress and as deadly as an unsheathed dagger. "Don't fight this. You already know what you want, what your body wants. You can sit here and fight with your desire all night but we both know that it's going to happen. We're going to drive to my hotel and I'm going to give you everything you've been missing." His hands returned to caressing my body, fingers dancing along my ribcage as he went for the kill. "You need this. You think I haven't heard about your star fading in the office, about how far you've fallen? It's obvious that you need something only I can give you, at least to me it is." He nibbled my earlobe and kissed along my jawline as he spoke. "Getting plastered ain't gonna do it. Your husband can't do it or he'd have done it already. I came here tonight to see if you and I could somehow recapture that hectic week we shared together, to see if you still wanted me. Judging from your reaction, you never wanted me to stop. Well you don't have to. Come with me Angel."